Till Misery do Cry Out Itself
by Autumnevening
Summary: Buffy comes back wrong. Very wrong. Now she’s destroyed everything good she ever fought for and broken Spike’s will. Then Anya returns and grants him a wish he didn’t even know he had. But the Slayer wants him back. Can he escape her and move on?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Till it do Cry Out Itself

Rating: R for violence and all other kinds of bad stuff

Summary: AU season 6. Buffy comes back wrong. Very wrong. After nearly a year she's destroyed everything good she ever fought for and broken Spike's will. Then Anya returns and grants him a wish he didn't even know he had. But the Slayer wants him back. Will he move on or will he drown in her darkness?

Pairings: Spike/Buffy, Tara/Willow, Angelus/Faith, Dawn/Andrew

Disclaimer: I own nothing, in fact I owe money. Suing me would be pointless.

A/N: How can I preface this? I don't really know. It's dark. Really dark. Probably one of the darkest things I will ever write. Uh, but I think it has fantastic potential. It's au, obviously. It may not seem like it now, but it's spuffy. This also comes from my deep dislike of post-season 5 Buffy. Yeah, so…enjoy.

Um, Readers rock but reviewers rule.

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Once the Slayer had been a ray of sunshine in the darkness, now when compared to her the darkness was bloody noontime. Spike watched forlornly as the last humans left Sunnydale. A priest and his understudy. Ironic that they should have stayed so long. More ironic that they were running from a slayer.

Father O'Hannaly pushed the banged up voltzwagon as fast as it could go, desperate to get out of the hellmouth. The man had showed an amazing constitution to stay this long. Dawn, his lil'bit, tore out of Sunnydale three months ago, an enamored Andrew by her side. At the time he'd thought the boy a git, a ponce at best, but now, seeing as what staying had left him with, Spike thought that the boy certainly had more brains than he did. Least he'd gotten Dawnie out.

The others, Spike tried hard not to cry at their memory, they hadn't been so lucky. He turned and began to walk back toward his crypt. He'd like to go to Joyce's place, he almost felt safe there, but Buffy had made it clear that no one was to go near the white house on Rodello drive. No, that house was only inhabited by ghosts now. Even the Slayer didn't go near it, and Spike imagined that she feared its goodness might infect her.

Anya had been the first to go. She said that Buffy was different. She was the first one to actually voice what everyone else feared, that Buffy had come back wrong. Buffy had been so angry that it became dangerous for her to say. Anya wanted Xander to leave with her, but he wouldn't, so she left alone. No one had heard from her since.

Then it had been Tara and Giles. They'd been researching, trying to find a way to fix Buffy. They loved her. All they wanted to do was help. A demon killed them while they sat on the floor in Gile's living room. He wouldn't voice it but Spike knew the demon was Red's doing, and at Buffy's request. He could see it in their eyes when they found the pair, bathed in their own blood. He could see it in their lack of mourning.

Not long after that Angel returned. Spike had hated the poof, until he saw the pain of knowledge in the other vampire's eyes. He knew what Buffy was now, his little seer girl had told him. Buffy dusted Angel a few days later. Stabbed him in the back with a steak as he tried to talk to Spike.

Spike stopped and leaned against a tree as he remembered; she drove that vile piece of wood through his heart after Angel said he was taking him back to L.A. God, and what she'd done to Angel's friends. And she'd made Dawn watch. She thought it would scare Dawn into submission, but it hadn't quite had the effect she'd wanted. The minute Buffy looked away Dawn had grabbed the geek by the hand and ran.

After that it was just him, and Xander, and Red. Did he even count, being the soulless git that he was? The things she'd done to him by then…Spike shook his head as an involuntary sob burst from him, and he stumbled, falling to the ground. She'd already destroyed him by then. Took him apart piece by piece till he was nothing, not a man, not a vampire, less than a slave even. Just a thing. Then she started to do it to Xander. But the boy couldn't handle it. She wouldn't let him leave, wouldn't let either of them leave, and after Spike's last attempt, and the-the _torture_ that followed Xander took his life into his own hands. He'd killed a little girl, drew it out quite a while too. If it hadn't been an act of desperation, if it had been another time, Spike might actually have been impressed. Xander made it last just long enough for the girl to make a wish, and then Anyaka was there and she took mercy on the boy and killed him.

Spike picked himself up from where he'd collapsed and continued toward his crypt. Buffy was waiting, and Red was probably watching. Bloody magic. Could that damned witch even be considered human anymore? Spike could feel the dark magic emanating off of her even when she wasn't using it. Her loyalty was to Buffy and Buffy only. It didn't matter that every power was trying to get into the hellmouth, didn't matter that Sunnydale was cut off from the rest of the world, didn't matter that the things the Slayer had done to both humans and demons made Glory look gentle. No, it didn't matter at all, Spike felt the bile rising in his throat, because Red was in love.

He wished he could tell her where loving the Slayer got you, but he didn't talk so often now. Not after the last time when Buffy had cut out his tongue, left it to hang like a good luck charm over her front door till the sun came up and dusted it. His tongue had grown back of course, but he'd never quite felt as talkative as before.

He walked through the cemetery, all of his old swagger gone, so thin that his duster hung off of him like an oversized sheet, but it had all been posturing anyway, and there was no one left to impress. All the demons had run, or belonged to Buffy and couldn't get away. Everyone knew what he was to her. Her pet, her toy, her _thing_.

She wasn't there when he opened the door to his crypt and relief and fear warred inside Spike. Part of him was immensely glad to be free of her presence for even a few minutes. The rest of him was terrified of meeting her when she returned. Spike walked slowly through the crypt and sat down in his chair. He was so tired. If he could just sleep forever maybe he could find a little 

peace. Spike let himself indulge in that fantasy for a few minutes-the idea of never being aware again. It seemed so peaceful, so wonderful. Maybe the Powers would be kind to him when he dusted and just let him cease to exist. He sighed. If wishes were horses and all that rubbish.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, I own nothing, in fact I owe money. Suing me would be pointless.**

**Ha, another chapter! I'm so proud of myself! All mistakes are mine, and I'm sorry you have to suffer through them. Enjoy!  
**

**Please remember to read and review.**

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Chapter 2

Elizabeth Anne Summers shifted in her sleep, one arm flinging out and narrowly missing the bedside table. Hard to believe that once upon a time she hardly dreamed at all. Now it was nearly every night, and sometimes they were like this.

Elizabeth walked down a long dark corridor. In the distance she saw a bright green light and as she approached it that light clarified and turned into a tropical garden. As she stepped out she turned and looked back from where she'd come and in the far distance she could she herself, asleep in her bed. Turning she walked into the garden. There was no sky above her, only white that shone softly down on everything, and high cliff walls surrounded this little paradise. She felt the cool grass on her bare feet and wondered what brought her here. As she walked leaves and vines brushed against her skin in a silent welcome. There were no birds, no animals, but she felt that she wasn't alone. Looking around she was surprised to see that each blade of grass, each flower petal and leaf was clearly defined and it occurred to her that this was not like normal dreams.

In the distance she heard a waterfall and slowly gravitated toward the sound, allowing her fingers to brush against leaf and smooth bark as she passed it, enjoying the colorful beauty of this place. She stopped abruptly when she entered a small clearing. On a small grassy rise, near the pool fed by a small waterfall, lay a man. He wore a pair of faded jeans but nothing else and hair that had once been blond had now grown out to show the brown roots underneath. He was beautiful, she hadn't even seen his face and she could tell that much. He was also covered in blood and trembling.

Her heart immediately went out to him and almost before she realized it she was kneeling down beside him her hand coming to rest lightly on his shoulder. His skin was cool. At her touch his head jerked up and Elizabeth was met with the most startlingly crystal blue eyes she had ever seen. His cheekbones stood out sharply and in contrast to his full lips. As he saw her the man gasped and scooted away, his trembling increasing, and Elizabeth felt like she'd been hit was a mack truck.

She held out a hand, palm up, like you would to a wounded animal.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly, "I just want to help."

He stared for a full minute and then the man's eyes widened and he came closer. She sat there silent and still as he did, hoping to not scare him off. Maybe if she could get him to trust her she could wash off the blood in the nearby pool and dress some of the gashes on his skin, some of which were still seeping blood. Watching him she also saw that he was quite emaciated, every rib standing out against his concave stomach.

He reached his hand out towards her several times but retracted it before he touched her. Finally he rested trembling fingers gently against her face. Elizabeth felt as though her entire being made sighed. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"B-Buffy?"

Elizabeth nodded but winced internally. She didn't know how he knew that name but she wished he didn't. She hadn't been called it in years. It was so…80's. Though; apparently that was the right answer, or perhaps the wrong one, because the man proceeded to break down in tears, resting his head against her thigh and wrapping thing arms around her waist. Surprised, but not daunted, Elizabeth ran her fingers through his blood matted hair. After a while he calmed and sat up, though he seemed reluctant to stop touching her, and looked at her in disbelief.

"Is it really you?"

Elizabeth nodded. Who else would she be?

"B-but, you left." And for a moment the man looked as though he'd cry again, but he didn't. "Why did you leave?"

Elizabeth had no idea how to answer. The only place she could ever remember leaving was L.A. And she couldn't remember anyone with a British accent. Maybe this had something to do with the Key? Perhaps She had left him. "I'm sorry?" she finally said.

"N-no," the man said, "nothing ta be sorry for. Shoulda-shoulda been better. Should 'ave been *more*." He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "C-could 'ave been better. I can be better. I will. Please-" At that his voice broke and he began to cry again. Elizabeth could only wrap her arms around him, and try and offer the comfort of her presence. "So sorry," he kept crying, "so so sorry."

It took time and lots of gentle shushing but once again he calmed and Elizabeth gently helped him sit up. "I think," she said thoughtfully, "that I had to go, but I'm sorry to know that you're suffering."

"You're not?"

Elizabeth gave a soft smile. "No, not suffering. Quite happy actually." At that a peace seemed to wash over the man and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I miss you."

Now Elizabeth smiled and reached out to rest a hand on his cheek. She didn't miss his hefty flinch, but she chose to ignore it. "But, I'm here now, isn't that enough?" The man sighed again and leaned into her touch.

"Yeah, luv, it always was."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and the world around her grew even brighter and clearer for a moment. "What's your name?"

The man looked up at her, puzzled, but answered. "Sp-William."

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. "That's a good name." And, this seemed to comfort the man before her.

The man, William, wrapped his arms around her, yet again, and rested his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel her heart speeding up as his breath feathered over the sensitive skin.

Now it was her turn to stutter. "M-maybe we can go to the water and-and get you cleaned up." William just sighed and pressed himself closer. Elizabeth found herself with the impression that this must be how Mr. Gordo usually felt. Just then there was a loud sound, like an explosion, and William was ripped away from her with a sharp cry. She barely had time to jump to her feet to look where he'd gone when the world around her turned white and she woke with a gasp.

Spike woke to the new door to his crypt being slammed open. He'd had to replace the heavy wood a few weeks ago, had to rebuild the damn thing himself as by then the priest had been the only human left. Spike shot up with a short cry, looking around for who he knew was there, his sleep muddled brain trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He didn't want to fall asleep. Sleep made him more vulnerable than he already was and that was a very very bad thing.

"Hey, blondie bear," a voice whispered in his ear, the sweet dream he'd had only making reality worse, and Spike's already cool blood froze.


End file.
